heads are turnin’ sidewardsley as she walks up to the stage dressed in black, hair blazin’ red, gold slippers on her feet she’s got a company of boys, she keeps as her slaves in tow but when the night is done, none of them follow where she goes.. the room is a little smokey, in a half filled kind of way as she takes an extra minute to put her last drink away and the big band’s growing anxious, they’re outside shaving all their heads and the boss has put his foot down and you know the bosses foots’ made out of lead.. so she grabs the introduction back, and throws it in his face then she starts to wail and shatter every window in the place her band is a computer, but it hasn’t got any glitch it asks her for the next song, and she knows exactly which.. the crowd has stopped its’ chatter long enough to catch its’ breath when she hits the opening note and says, “.. here’s a song about s*x..” and then she wraps it all around me the way most good women do i try to call the waiter, but he’s all wrapped up in her too.. then her song is over, and it’s time to take a bow “my name is isadora,” she said, if it even matters now i saw her by a car as i was walking out the door her boys had loaded most of the things, but they still needed to load a little more.. so i stopped a minute to tell her that i really like her voice then she smiled, thanking me, telling me that i really had no choice so now i’m sitting here deciding how this song is supposed to end and i guess i’ll just have to wait until i see isadora again.. sallysally@usa.net